


Latent Flight

by Samsylvania



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7557118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samsylvania/pseuds/Samsylvania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack broke his wings on a recon mission.  Well, they're healed now, and after seeing the condition they were in before, Gabriel wants to help him heal.  He wants to see Jack fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Take These Broken Wings and Learn to Fly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KarasuNei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarasuNei/gifts), [PinetreeVillain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinetreeVillain/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Eclipse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7543015) by [KarasuNei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarasuNei/pseuds/KarasuNei). 



> Okay, I tried to keep this away from dialogue because let's face it, I'm not great and writing their personalities. Even so, I tried, and I'm pretty happy with the result!
> 
> Also known as "the work in which I call Reyes by too many names".
> 
> Enjoy!

"Gabe, where are you leading me, exactly?" Jack had begrudgingly accepted the blindfold when offered, but he had never really been one for surprises. Given his past, it wasn't really all that shocking.

When he had been young and naive, he had foolishly followed one of the other children in the town in an attempt to make a friend. The other had led him through the trees nearby, not once telling him where they were going. When prompted, the only answer given had been that it was a surprise.

They finally reached a small clearing among the trees, sunlight filtering a bit stronger through the leaves above their heads. Jack had started to ask why he'd brought him here, only to be pushed to the ground by two other boys who had seemingly come out of nowhere.

They held him down as two more appeared and walked toward him with the one who'd lured him. He writhed against them to no avail, all the while wondering why. As they started beating him, in the back of his mind he knew why; it was his wings. It had always been his wings. A dark omen against the bright world. A feathered void among a crowd of colors.

Speaking of, they shifted where they were tucked against his back at the thought of the memory.

"I can't tell you, it would ruin the surprise!"

Well, that certainly didn't help anything.

_Pull yourself together Jack, this is Gabe we're talking about here. Remember? The one with your feather on his neck? He wouldn't hurt you._ He sighed, allowing himself to be led blindly along.

It wasn't long before Reyes stopped him, the sound of a door opening hitting his ears before he was being gently nudged again. He held out a hand as to not walk into the door frame, stopping again when he felt a light pressure on his shoulder.

"You can take it off now."

Jack did so gladly, blinking as his eyes readjusted to seeing light again. As the world came back into focus, he looked around a bit in confusion. "...It's the gym. You brought me to the base's gym. I'm amazed." The sarcasm in his voice was practically tangible.

"Okay, I hear you, but do you notice anything... different?" Gabe shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, leaning back ever so slightly.

He paused, taking in his surroundings again. "No?"

"Jack, it's empty."

Well, he was right on that. Besides them, the room was silent. He probably wouldn't have been so confused as to what was going on if Gabe hadn't locked the door behind them.

It didn't take him long to notice the look on Jack's face. "I had a talk with Ziegler to get the okay, but once I did that it was just a matter of checking in a few favors, having some strings pulled... Long story short, the gym is set aside on the weekends under the guise of a weight-lifting group, and I figured we could get your wings back to..." He cleared his throat. "Functional level?"

Jack swiveled to face him and Gabe couldn't hide the slight smirk at the sudden defensiveness of it. "My wings are fine Gabe, I just-- I don't use them much! Base code, and all that."

Reyes cocked an eyebrow.

"What, I'm serious!"

Silence.

Jack finally relented, running a hand down his face. "Okay, fine. Just, don't be so smug about it, wipe that shit-eating grin off your face."

\----------------------------------------

It took months before Gabe decided that they'd done enough to strengthen them. Long gone were the matte, disheveled feathers and creaking joints. In their place were strong muscles and an iridescent sheen that made it seem like the entire rainbow was in his feathers.

With this declaration, however, came another blindfold, as well as a car ride. It was a comfortable silence, Jack holding the hand that Gabe wasn't using to drive. The blonde enjoyed moments like this, were they could simply brush their thumbs a certain way or shift their fingers, letting their hands speak for them.

The car slowed for a moment before making a turn to the... left? No, right. Jack could tell they weren't on a paved road anymore, based on the bumps and vibrations. He was almost certain they'd gone offroad at some point as well, there was no way there were potholes this large, even on dirt roads. It was a few more minutes before they eventually stopped, the engine shutting off along with the telltale sound of the key being removed from the ignition.

"Gabe?"

"You can take the blindfold off."

Again, he let his eyes adjust. Once he wasn't being blinded by sunlight, he realized they were in a relatively large field. There were trees everywhere, and when he looked behind them there was no path to follow to get here.

Reyes gently squeezed his hand. "Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"Today, cariño, is the day you fly."

Flying? He felt his stomach drop. Sure, he'd learned, but with how much he'd kept them hidden, he was a bit rusty. Gliding was one thing. Flying was something else entirely. Regardless he steeled himself and nodded, the two of them getting out of the car. The sound of the doors shutting somehow managed to sound foreboding. He followed Gabe away from the tree line, glancing about to be certain it was only them before freeing his wings, stretching them to rid them of stiffness.

Gabriel had already done the same, turning toward him. With a thrust of his wings he was airborne, the steady cadence sounding almost like a heartbeat. He held out a hand, inviting Jack to join him.

Jack watched him for a brief moment before taking a breath to steady his mind. He could do this. This was what they'd been working for.

He tried to remember the motions, ghosting them for a moment before following them through with legitimate force. He certainly couldn't do it as Gabe had, but a few frenzied thrusts later, he'd risen a foot or so above the grass. Frenzied turned to fervent as he paced himself, the consistency bringing him closer to Gabriel until they were at eye level again and Jack had taken his hand.

They hovered there for what felt like forever before Jack grinned, letting go of his hand before flying off, Gabriel chasing after and weaving through the air with him.

And for a while, time felt frozen, and they were free.


	2. Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji has seen his brother turn and walk away from him before. This time things are different, and Zenyatta is there at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know they're all supposed to have bird wings in this AU but fuck it Hanzo and Genji are Dragons. I had to give them dragon wings. I couldn't not.

Genji had watched his brother walk away from him time and time again.

  
He'd watched him walk away after they'd been wrestling together as children. Hanzo had finally managed to turn the tides and get an advantage over him with their father had sent a servant calling for him. Hanzo had reluctantly gone, telling Genji that he would be back to play again later. Genji had nodded, a smile on his face. He understood, and held no resentment toward him for cutting their time short. After all, Hanzo was training to take over the clan, and Genji knew he was going to do great things one day, and when that day came, he'd be Hanzo's second in command, the two of them having their greatest adventures yet.

  
He'd watched him walk away from their arguments and quarrels as young teens. Genji had been shirking his training. As they'd grown, he'd realized his interests were elsewhere. Where they were he'd yet to find out, but they weren't with the clan. Hanzo had confronted him, telling him he needed to be there. Father was angry with him. He wanted his sons to be able to take his place when the time came, and at the rate things were going, Genji wasn't going to be there. Genji scoffed.

  
"So? You're better at this than me anyway, Hanzo. The clan doesn't need me."

  
Hanzo opened his mouth as if to say something, only to stop himself and sigh. He turned away and headed home, wings twitching.

  
He hadn't seen him walk away at their father's funeral. It had been Genji walking away that time. Hanzo had tried to coax him into a position in the clan once the service had ended, and Genji was having none of it. Not now. Hanzo did not attempt to stop him. He knew it had been foolish and he had asked anyway. He knew Genji needed time to grieve and he had done it anyway.

  
Perhaps the most memorable time he had seen Hanzo walk away was when he was lying on the floor, bleeding out. He could see his own blood on the sword in his brother's hand. He hadn't fought back. How could he? He and Hanzo had certainly been at odds before, but he was still his brother. He still looked up to him. He still loved him. Even now, as he lay dying, he still loved him. Had loved him as his Hanzo's sword had broken past his own where he'd held it up in defense, feeling the cold metal impale his stomach. Had loved him as he coughed up blood, had loved him as he'd tried in vain to dodge the blows that followed, had loved him as his wings were severed, as the blade came down again, and again, and again, even as he felt the subtle sorrow and anger driving him to do this.

  
That had all been long ago. Now, as he watched his brother leave, he felt no resentment, but rather a bittersweet feeling. He watched as Hanzo flew off, turning into a faint blue speck in the sky. He wondered if the Nepalese air at that altitude stung the membrane of his wings, or if it made his nose burn from the cold. He wouldn't know. Not before, and certainly not now.

  
The muscles in his back twitched. He could still feel the place they'd once been, could almost feel himself moving them again. It was all phantom senses, though. That much he'd come to know over the years.

  
They'd been beautiful, a bright emerald green, with a large wingspan to accompany the luxurious color. The scales on them would shimmer in the sunlight, and he had quickly become the person other men envied, and the one women lusted after.

  
A gentle pressure on his shoulder brought him back to reality however, and his muscles twitched again.

  
"Genji?"

 

"Master."

  
"You are tense, my student. What troubles you?"

  
Genji says nothing at first. It had been years. Besides, there was nothing that could be done for it. He had questioned Angela about it sometime last year, wondering if it would be possible for replacements to be made. He missed the weight of them on his back, missed flying, missed the skies. She had told him that unfortunately no, it was not possible. The materials required would weigh him down far too much, it would cause strain and in the end cause him harm. He had thanked her anyway, understanding but still somewhat bitter and broken over it in his heart. Why should he trouble Zenyatta with this? The omnic had already done so much for him, why would he trouble him with something so petty when there was nothing that could be done to fix it?

  
He thought this, but he knew that Zenyatta would continue to gently ask him over the coming days if he wished to talk about anything if he said that it was nothing. The monk knew him too well at this point to let the subtle body language he'd trained to spot slide by so easily.

  
"Memories, one in particular I'm finding a bit difficult to let go of." He turned, walking back into the temple, Zenyatta floating along at his side.

  
Zenyatta said nothing, knowing Genji would specify in time. Nudges helped somewhat if needed, but for now it would be best to let him speak in his own turn. He did not want it to seem as though he were attempting to pry into Genji's past.

  
They walked in silence for a time before Genji spoke again.

  
"Have I ever told you about my wings?'

  
Zenyatta cocked his head slightly. He had known that he had had wings at some point, as all humans seemed to. Genji had never gone into detail though, and he did not press the topic. "No, I do not believe you have."

  
He smiled faintly under his mask as he let the more vivid portions of the memories come back to him, wishing he could see their color again rather than seeing it only in his mind's eye. "You would have loved them, Master. They are much like Hanzo's, with the exception of pigment. They did not have feathers like those of others. They likely would have fascinated you." He hummed in amusement at the thought of Zenyatta running his hands over the translucent membranes running between the lengths of bone, fingers running with the same reverence as he had done with his face the first time Genji had shown it to him. If Hanzo had left his wings, and if they had survived, perhaps they would have been scarred, too. Zenyatta would have traced them as he had done the ones over his features. Gentle, always gentle.

  
"You miss them." It was not a question. Genji knew this, nodding in affirmation. "It is normal to yearn for something you have lost."

  
He nodded again. "It is. Normally I would not pine for a lost cause for such a time, but they were my pride once, as..." He paused, searching for the right word. "Egotistical as it sounds."

  
They fell into silence again before finding themselves outside once more, beneath a blooming cherry tree. Genji allowed himself to sit among the fallen petals, taking a breath and slowly exhaling. He looked over as Zenyatta slowly floated down to sit in the grass beside him, sun glinting on his chrome. The gentle breeze rustling the leaves above them was the only sound to be heard, and Genji allowed himself a small indulgence, gently taking one of Zenyatta's hands.

  
"Even if they had not been taken, I think I would prefer to be grounded here with you anyway."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note, I have one more chapter coming up with Tracer - that'll probably be out later today. For now, it's 6 in the morning and I need to c h i l l.


	3. I Am Not Throwing Away My Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slipstream has been haunting Lena for quite some time now. She wants to fly again, needs to fly again, but her own mind is quickly becoming her own worst enemy. Jack steps in to help her out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You had to know there was going to be more angst. There is always more angst. ALWAYS.

_You can do this. You can do this. You can do this._ Lena tried in vain to mentally pump herself up, hands shaking ever so slightly. _You're a pilot, Lena! You can do this!_

  
Correction, was a pilot. It had been just over a year since she'd last had anything to do with a plane; the last time she'd been in one, the last time she'd flown one, the last time she disappeared into thin air, the last time she'd nearly been lost to the time-space continuum... She took stock of herself, realizing she was starting to hyperventilate. She quickly chased away the thoughts, focusing on steadying her breathing.

  
She also hadn't flown normally since then. The thought of being in the air had terrified her ever since. Since her recruitment into Overwatch, however, she knew she was going to have to go airborne at some point. She had to get over this fear, somehow.

  
She'd already tried the involuntary method. You know, the one kind of like a trust fall, only it's not a trust fall. You're on top of a tall building, and then you're plummeting to the ground. Fast. You have one of two options. You could pull up and save yourself, forcing yourself to fly in the process. The other option was hitting the ground. There was nobody at the bottom to save you.

  
The only problem was she couldn't force herself to get on the roof of a building, let alone force herself off the edge. She'd tried getting help from Winston, hoping he'd understand. She'd straight out asked him to push her off a roof. Needless to say, the following conversation had ended with a psyche evaluation from Mercy. She'd covered it up with her reputation for being a little daredevil, wanting to try something new.

  
Now, here she was, out on the airfield again, pacing restlessly.

  
She sighed, flopping back onto the ground. This was hopeless! How was she ever going to be an asset like this - a pilot afraid of flying? The idea of it was preposterous!  
What was she going to tell Morrison and Reyes tomorrow when she went in for her first briefing? That she couldn't do the whole flying thing? Was she going to just fake an illness every time they told her to get in a flying transport until someone caught on and ratted out her little secret?

  
A groan followed the sigh and she let a hand fall and smack herself in the face. Truly hopeless.

  
"Lena?"

  
She jolted at the sound of the voice, scrambling to her feet and falling into a salute. "Sir!"

Morrison raised an eyebrow. "At ease..." He watched as she lowered her arm, noticing she was still a bit fidgety. "Alright, I'll bite. What's eating you, kid?"

  
"Pardon?"

  
"You're shaking like a sapling in a rainstorm, Oxten."

  
She fought to steady herself, sitting on the ground again. She didn't protest when Jack sat next to her.

  
"You worried about your first day?"

  
"No, sir."

  
"Jack."

  
"Right, sorry. Jack."

  
"If it's not that, then what is it?" His voice wasn't unkind, but it still sounded harsher than sandpaper to her.

  
She mumbled something in response that Jack didn't quite catch.

  
"Hm?"

  
"I said, I'm afraid of flying!" She didn't mean for it to come out so loud, quickly muttering an apology afterward.

 

A pause.

 

"Slipstream memories still getting to you?"

  
She nodded.

  
Jack said nothing for a bit before finally getting to his feet. "Alright, up and at 'em."

  
"Huh?"

  
"I'm going to be honest with you. I heard about you asking Winston to push you off the roof. I also know you've been out here for hours doing nothing besides pacing. You clearly want to break through this, but you don't have the incentive on your own. So, I'm going to give you one." Spreading his wings, he pushed off of the ground, hovering there as he held out a hand, something Gabriel had once done for him.

  
Lena looked from his face to his hand, swallowing dryly. This was her chance. _You can do this. You can do this._ Hesitantly, she got to her feet and spread her own wings.

  
_I'm not throwing away my shot._


	4. Tell me a story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree wants to know why Hanzo's wings are scarred, probably expecting some valiant battle tale. However, it's not as pretty as the folktales and fables that Hanzo usually tells him.

Hanzo hummed quietly as he felt arms wrap around him and the gentle feeling of hands running over his wings. McCree had always been fascinated by them. Granted, Hanzo was just as fascinated by the russet pair that his cowboy sported, fingers gently running through the feathers. Perhaps it was a thing between mates? He wasn't certain, but it didn't matter.

  
They were happy. That was what mattered.

  
"Darlin', you never did tell me how you got these scars." McCree's voice was quiet in the dark, thick with impending sleep. Hanzo was suddenly wide awake.

  
"It is not important."

  
"Hanzo, with you, anythin' is important." He put a light kiss to the dragon's shoulder. "Please, tell me." His voice faded into that pleading lilt that he used when he wanted Hanzo to tell him some of the old stories he'd picked up in his youth.

  
Hanzo hesitated. This story wasn't like the others. The others had all been cultural fables. Tall tales. Fiction.

  
This one was not.

  
He opened his eyes to see that familiar hazel staring back at him. God, he couldn't resist those puppy dog eyes.

 

-

 

Hanzo remembered it like it was yesterday.

 

"Brother? You called?"

  
Hanzo did not face him. He was at the balcony guardrail, looking out into the night. "Yes, I did."

  
Genji grinned, walking over and standing beside him, leaning on the guardrail as he shifted his wings against his back. "Don't sound so grim! You sound like the elders, and you're barely over 28. What's got you so unsettled?"

  
"Your behavior is out of line--"

  
Genji cut him off with a groan, body language overdramatic as he threw his head back. "This again? Hanzo, we've been over this, I was never meant to rule anyway! Why should I have to be all stiff and formal? That's your thing, brother. Not mine."

  
"Genji, please. At least act somewhat your age! I can understand you acting like this when no-one else is watching, but in broad daylight you flaunt around like some teenager caught up on hormones! You still frequent the arcade, it's embarassing!"

  
"Age is only a number, Hanzo! And why should I give up the things I enjoy? Nothing in this 'palace' of a house brings me any joy with all of the regulations and rules, why can I not seek it elsewhere?"

  
"Genji, please."

  
"No, Hanzo." He stands, his usually happy expression twisted into a grimace. "You really have become the elders' shadow, haven't you? I should have known you'd follow them. You were always a puppy on father's heels when he was alive." He turns toward the stairs leading back inside, disregarding the sound of movement behind him.

  
"I was worried you'd refuse."

  
He stops, but doesn't turn back. "You, worried? As if that's something new." Against his better judgement, he turns to look at him. "What are you going to do, punish me? You might be older than me but you have no jurisdiction over what I do."

  
Hanzo sighed, hand hesitating for a moment before gripping his katana's handle where it was sheathed at his side, pulling it out as he turned to face Genji. "I can't allow you to continue like this."

  
Genji balked a bit, taking a step back. "Hanzo...?" The younger lept to the side as Hanzo ran at him, blade missing him by a hair. "Hanzo, what the hell?!"

  
"If you will not correct your behavior, you will die for them!" He tried again, once again missing as Genji dodged.

  
The sound of shifting metal rang out again as Genji drew his own sword, holding it defensively. "Is that what the elders have been telling you? How could you ever think this was necessary?"

  
Swords repeatedly clashed, Hanzo striking and Genji blocking.

  
"I won't fight you, Hanzo! Stop this!"

  
Hanzo didn't listen to him, letting his usually curbed rage come to the surface. 10 more strikes, 2 hit. Blood lined the sword edge. Another 10. 5 this time. Blood was littering the floor as they backed down the stairs and into the room, dancing around each other as Genji continued trying to block the blows aimed at him.

  
"Hanzo, please-- Please stop--"

  
Another blow to Genji's sword and suddenly there was a chip that wasn't there before, and he realized he was running on bought time. This would end with one of them dead. He could see it in Hanzo's eyes.

  
In a last ditch effort, he stepped back again and dropped his sword, voice firm as he spoke. "I won't fight you, Hanz--" He gasped as he felt it, staring at Hanzo's face for a moment before slowly looking down at his stomach. "...Oh." With shaking hands he reached for the sword now impaling him. When had his clothes become so red and torn? Since when had he started to feel lightheaded from blood loss?

  
Hanzo suddenly pulled the sword free and Genji managed to stand for another moment before falling to his knees. When he looked up at Hanzo again he could see tears in his eyes. He wanted to tell him it was okay, that he understood, but all he could manage was to weakly cough up some blood as he fell limply to his side, not even really feeling when he hit the floor, nor when Hanzo started screaming mindlessly and bringing the sword down again and again on his already mangled body. His vision was tinged with black by the time his back began to feel a lot lighter. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Hanzo's blurry figure dragging some large green thing behind him.

  
His wings, he realized as he passed out. He had taken his wings.

 

-

 

It was not a day later when he realized what he'd done. He blocked the door to his room before grabbing his katana where it laid strewn carelessly in the corner. He unsheathed it, looking at the blood staining it before opening his wings and turning it on himself. He yelled in a mixture of pain and sorrow as he dragged it down through the membrane, again and again and again.

  
He was already finished by the time his guards managed to get inside, finding him kneeling there in a pool of his own blood, sobbing, wings torn to shreds. They would heal him, he was certain of it, but he didn't care. He would do it over again each time they had healed enough.

  
He would not fly if Genji was not there to fly with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I couldn't do the ending going back to the present, but just imagine the fluffiest of comfort coming from McCree. Lavish your dragon in love, cowboy.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to yell at me you can find me over here on my tumblr: http://samsylvania.tumblr.com/


End file.
